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Vaetric glanced at the two as they doubled backward, having been punched by the new Captain. Or Commander. Leader? Either way, he was somewhat relieved to find that he'll only be worked half to death, rather than find himself at the pearly gates by the end of it, how lovely. He sprouted his gotta get along together small speech, then tujrned to where they were supposed to go.

Vaetric kept the rope over his shoulder for now, changing constantly due to the pain of his previously unworked flesh. Apparently it was good exercise, maybe it wasn't. Either way, he could feel his thighs burning already.

Higgins spoke some things about the Captain. Vaetric hadn't even heard of him until he showed up out of the blue. "Uh huh?" He asked. Well, he could've said that better. "Oh? How interesting, please do say more." Would've been more diplomatic, probably. He could feel his brain siezing up in pain due to the internal torment of his embarassment.

Vaetric had to go to his happy place a fair few times during the journey. It was then that he realised he had no happy place, just a void where he could go to and watch the world around him in his head, his eyes the window. he could only feel his exhaustion through a hazy fog, which was nice, all he had to do was just keep mindlessly pushing forward, then he could reap the reprecussions afterward, which'll suck. He glanced to his side, bad mistake, it brought everything he'd been ignoring, his arms and legs felt ready to fall off. He had a bit of sweat on his brow, which was strange, because Higgins looked like he had an ocean glistening on him. Well, he never really did sweat all that much. Back to mindlessly pulling.

Throughout the journey the small group had been embarking upon there had been complaints from each member of the team and Captain Carpenter had done his best to ignore them. He grew tired of hearing them early on and resorted to drinking, finishing up his flask which he soon there after had to refill far too often.

Walking alongside the cart John watched as the sky changed colour whilst constantly keeping a tight grip on a den den mushi incase of information from the other team of whom he assumed was doing well despite the lack of a call.

But y'know what they say about assumption.

Continuously and tirelessly pushing on, John spotted a small hill up ahead and darted up it quickly.

The team had come a fair few miles and the two pulling the cart had done an incredible job. Proud of them John would never tell them. He removed a small set of binoculars he'd taken from the cart earlier in the trip and peered through them.

He could see a few camps which would need dealing with and a cave on a slightly higher patch of ground. Grinning to himself John lowered the binoculars and turned to face his team.

Raising his hand signalling to stop he walked down the hill approaching his team.

"Just beyond this hill are three small camps and beyond that the cave we suspect the Brute to be hiding in. We will set up camp here for tonight and attack early in the morning. The sooner we get these guys out of the way the smoother our attack on the cave will go."

"Why don't we just attack now using the stealth of the dark?"

"Because these two need a rest." John said forcefully pointing to Vaetric & Higgins who looked rather sweaty from their effort in pulling the supplies.

"Then why don't the three of us just attack?" the ever persistent Locke questioned curiously.

"Because you all need real world experience of working together as a team and not to be running off into potentially dangerous situations. You could get yourselves killed and that would be on my watch."

"But captain -"

"That's enough! End of!" John raised his voice as he pointed to the cart. "Locke & Wolfe, set up the tents from the cart, we'll resume in the morning as mentioned earlier. Vaetric & Higgins just rest up. Big day tomorrow and you'll need your strength."

Returning to the hill top with a fold out mat from the cart John sat watching the camps. The longer he kept an eye on them the more he would know about how they operated, changed shifts etc and this would be crucial to completing his first proper mission in a long time.

Vaetric kept mostly to himself, as usual. He took all of his complaints and quashed them deep inside his soul. Each time his shoulder grew weary, he switched it to another. However, it was such an arduous journey both of his shoulders soon grew sore, rather than just one. Maybe he should’ve kept it at one, at least then he only had one bit to focus on. No, not just one. His hands, too. He put most of the work on his shoulders, his hands just to keep it there, but they still grew red, maybe he should’ve worn gloves. Maybe they should’ve given him gloves.

They continuously pushed on, but not tirelessly. His his, shoulders and legs burnt with exhaustion after but a few miles, finally, however, they soon came to a stop as the Captain signalled their halt. He took a breather, rubbing his hands as he could feel the blisters forming, a protrusion from his hands that felt alien and stingy. Not very nice at all. Why were they pulling a cart again?

Music to his ears, the Captain said that they no longer needed to pull the cart. The others were complaining, or at least, those who hadn’t been pulling a cart all day were, typical. The Captain spoke some things that he just pushed out of his mind rather than question. Real world experience? They were in the Marines- no, just time for rest now.

He stumbled off to the side, they’ll probably tell him when to wake up, but he didn’t care right now. He plopped his behind onto a small part of the hill, closing his eyes for a snooze, a rest filled with soreness and pain, but rest nonetheless.

Setting up a camp fire that night John made sure to hand around rations of food and enough drink for everyone and check over the inventory on the cart as he did so he could see nothing had been lost other than the rations he'd supplied his men with and that his secret weapons for this operation were not just still with them, but operation too. He would do the Navy proud in this endeavour and maybe his old crew would return seeing him in a new light. Either way though, he now potentially had a new crew, but only time would tell.

Turning to the men he raised his voice aloud, but not too loud.

"Once you've filled your faces, get to bed. An early rest will make good for an early start. I'll keep watch throughout the night in case anything un toward should happen."

Taking the burden of losing sleep on to his shoulders wasn't something new for John as he'd done it many times before but as he watched his men head to bed he raised his flask for what could very well be his last time. Just on the horizon of this hill was a war waiting to blast him from his feet and bring him glory or defeat.

Moments later john discovered the sounds of gunfire and the blazing like of an explosion in the distance. being woken from his disturbed slumber that should never have happened he slammed his fist down into the ground furiously as he looked towards the beds of his men.

"Ass Maggots!"

Three of the four men were missing!

The only one left was the Chore boy.

Rushing to the top of the hill and grabbing a weapon along with a box of ammunition from the cart John set up a small camp atop the camp as quickly as he could lying down he lay with a rifle in hand a flintlock poking out of the back of his trousers. He could see hell unleashed before him at the hands of his untrust-worthy marines and the nightmare they'd endured when the sights fell upon their cold lifeless bodies at the entrance to the camp.

The small camp up ahead had a few small tents set a blaze but more importantly there were three revolutionaries standing before them each armed with heavy duty fire power.

Gritting his teeth John prepared himself for something that wasn't going to be pretty. Digging out a small chunk of ground with his hands, he buried the barrel of the rifle into it slightly covering the tip with some loose bits of dirt.

Mute

As his sights fell upon the first of the three men he squeezed the trigger sending out a bullet in the sound of silence crashing through the brains of the first of the men. Unfortunately the sounds of these men wasn't muted and a scream of horror was launched sky high.

Squeezing the trigger two more times solved this problem though as the last two bodies hit the ground.

The brute would now not just know that his camps were under attack, but now he knew someone was coming for them and waiting till morning was no longer an option.

They set up camp for the night, although Vaetric was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be left undisturbed for his nap, he ate nonetheless. Interestingly enough, having to pull a cart around worked up quite the appetite, not that he had any excuse to eat a lot. They didn't have a lot either, unfortunately. He winced a little as his sensitive hands touched the food as he ate, blistered and painful. He thought scrubbing floors with a wooden brush had been rough, but that at least he could control the rhythm of. He had to keep pace with some big guy.

Once he had filled his face, he promptly followed Captain's orders and went to bed. The more time he spent awake, the less time he got to sleep. The less time he got to sleep, the more fatigued he'll be for tomorrow. At least the Captain took the night shift, so they'd be mostly safe unless he got sniped. But he was a Captain, therefore, he was the strongest of all of them, so...

He closed his eyes.

And awoke to the sound of a curse. He sat up groggily, grumbling to himself. He was also pretty sure he'd heard an explosion. He wasn't quite sure what time it was, but the weather was cold. Or maybe it was just early. It was probably early. He glanced around, not seeing the others, but he did see the Captain running up the hill. It was dark, so probably very early. Too early.

He stood up, almost stumbling back down as he rightened his uniform in irritated fashion. He heard some screams, then nothing. He took his rifle, moving to follow the Captain. He'd never shot anyone before, he'd hoped he didn't have to. The raffle had a nice butt on it, maybe he could use it as a club? That he could do. He missed his mop. His hands still sore, he laid low, noting the bodies of the three missing marines. Guess the Captain wasn't as good of a watchman as he'd thought. Guess he was alive because he was deemed worthless, which wasn't an inaccurate assumption. Choreboy.